


all the way home i'll be warm

by dogworldchampion



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, and jake and amy are about to give them another, omg the santiagos have like a billion grandchildren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogworldchampion/pseuds/dogworldchampion
Summary: Jake Peralta has never enjoyed the outdoors. Sure, that one Cub Scouts camping trip in first grade was pretty fun, but adult Jake Peralta prefers snow plows, massage chairs, modern insulation, and easy-access delivery food.Which makes the fact that he agreed to spend Christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York with his new wife’s family a remarkable testament to just how much he loves said new wife.





	all the way home i'll be warm

**Author's Note:**

> so all y'all should know that a) i owe elsaclack and jakelovesamy my LIFE and b) this started as an answer to the following prompt: 
> 
> 99\. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”
> 
> so u can see it was very On Track. anyway, leave your thoughts either in the comments or @the-pontiac-bandit on tumblr!!

 

Jake Peralta has never _enjoyed_ the outdoors. Sure, that one Cub Scouts camping trip in first grade was pretty fun, but that was mostly because his dad was Assistant Scoutmaster that year, and Jake got to stay up until the sun started to rise, making s’mores with Charlie Daniels and his brother. Adult Jake Peralta prefers snow plows, massage chairs, modern insulation, and easy-access delivery food.

Which makes the fact that he agreed to spend Christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere in upstate New York with his new wife’s family a remarkable testament to just how much he loves said new wife.

Of course, the Santiagos are a remarkably _awesome_ bunch of people. Victor warmed up to him - _finally_ \- when Jake told the Santiagos about his intentions to marry Amy. He showed them the ring, and Victor decided that anyone who had managed to save up that much money with a credit score below 200 was plenty tenacious enough to be a Santiago. Her brothers, meanwhile, had warmed to him as soon as they learned how much he loved basketball and good cop movies (Luis once told him that there were so many Santiago brothers it wasn’t even that noticeable when they picked up a few extra along the way. Jake had never felt more thrilled to be so entirely a part of something).

Even with all that awesome, being snowed in with all of the Santiagos in an eight-bedroom “cabin” (it’s definitely way too large for that title, and yet still somehow too small for all seven brothers, their spouses, and the kids) for four days over Christmas was not his idea of a dream vacation. Jake has no idea exactly how many nieces and nephews he now has, but he knows that there are at least twenty children that made it to the cabin ranging from scarily-new infants to surly teenagers, and they all call him _Tio Jake_ with an excitement that warms his heart.

That many kids with that few bedrooms, though, means that someone is always sleeping somewhere strange. Usually on the floor. Definitely at a weird time of day. And Jake definitely almost steps on them on his way to the kitchen for more Cheetos (Manny brought a seemingly endless supply - he keeps pulling more from his car every time the boys finish a bag. Jake is eternally grateful).

Amy always seems to know who’s sleeping where (she also knows all of their names, of course, because she’s a perfect aunt who filled up their entire trunk with personalized gifts for each child _and_  all her brothers, leaving Jake with a much better understanding of why they couldn’t afford Paris).

There is a constant hum of noise in the cabin. On the first day, which Jake obnoxiously calls Christmas Eve-Eve to anyone who will listen, everyone is in and out - exploring the nearby town, enjoying the fresh air, playing games of soccer on frozen ground that gives Jake a bruise on his hip when he tries to bicycle kick for the winning point. All in all, a great first day.

Then, that night, the snow starts to fall. At first, it’s some flurries. Just enough snow to be romantic - when it falls, it’s light and fresh, and Jake’s been to the country before, but just rarely enough that seeing fresh, fluffy snow surrounding him is a novelty. The Santiagos, who grew up with a huge backyard and spent their winters rolling around in snow that no dogs had peed in, were less impressed, and thought he was insane for wanting to spend that much time in the _woods_ in the _snow_ at _night_.

But then Amy walked outside with Jake in her heaviest parka, and they stood together and watched it fall, illuminated by the faded light coming out of the cabin, where the Santiagos were playing the largest game of Apples to Apples he’d ever seen. Everything was perfect, and just a little bit magical, and when he leaned down to kiss her, he could see the snowflakes that had settled on her eyelashes.

Jake is thoroughly enjoying the feel of her lips against his, even if that’s the only skin-to-skin contact available with all the layers, even though the pom pom on top of his hat is slowly pulling the entire garment forward to cover his eyes, but it ends when Amy decides her hands are freezing - even in their wool mittens - and tells him very pointedly that if he likes what her hands were going to do later, he’d best go inside and save them from frostbite. After that, he moves very quickly back towards the fire the Santiagos lit in the living room (carefully guarded by the oldest cousin, college freshman Anna, to prevent any accidental burns to the five year-old twins racing past).

Everything is perfect until the next morning, Christmas Eve, when he wakes up to nearly two feet of snow on the ground outside. _Of course_ nothing is plowed and _of course_ their cars are buried and _of course_ there are somehow now nearly forty people stuck in what used to feel like a very large “cabin” and Jake’s thinking everyone should have just gotten hotel rooms in the city instead, no matter how pretty the untouched snow is.

Jake and Amy are up ridiculously early, thanks to the wails of the baby that radiate from the room they share walls with. Jake gently pushes Amy back to sleep when she starts to get up to go take care of her niece - she _never_ lets herself sleep, and she’s been absolutely exhausted lately. She _deserves_ this.

So Jake finds himself in the kitchen with Luis, Manny, and Joel, sitting in flannel pajama pants and overlarge matching t-shirts (Joel designed Family Reunion 2018 shirts. Jake never wants to take his off). Children are playing quietly around him - all of them are aware that moms, dads, and older siblings are trying to sleep, and they’re Santiagos, so _of course_ they’re complying. Jake’s enjoying his Frosted Flakes (also courtesy of Manny), and reveling in the early morning quiet (at least, compared to Santiagos at full volume), compounded by the thick coat of snow on the ground outside.

It’s Luis who breaks the comfortable silence, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. His daughter Lucia, just barely three months old, is cradled in his arm, and he’s clutching a steaming cup of black coffee for dear life with the other hand.

“Man, thank God she fell back asleep. Sometimes she just won’t stop crying in the mornings, and I can’t exactly take her outside in this weather. Would’ve been a fun wakeup call for everyone.”

Joel shoots a pointed look at his little brother, just fourteen months older than Amy. “But it’s _so_ worth it. I remember when the twins were that little - a handful, but the best gift I could have asked for.” His gaze rests squarely on Jake, looking inquisitive, and Jake squirms a little bit under the intense stare.

Manny jumps in shockingly quickly to support his brother. “Yeah, Sarah and I only got married a year ago, but we’re already talking about it - we just can’t wait to have some of our own. What about you, Jake? Any kids in your future?”

Jake laughs a little, feeling a bit uncomfortable but brushing it off - brothers must talk like this all the time. “Oh, I’d say they’re definitely somewhere down the line, but definitely not anytime soon. There’s a life calendar hanging above our bed that says no kids until Amy’s a lieutenant, at least.”

Luis starts to laugh, but he’s quickly silenced by Joel, nearly thirteen years his senior, elbowing him in the side. He swallows his giggles, looking furtively at Jake, but their new brother-in-law hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

They talk about their kids for a while, and Jake explains the elaborate color-coding system that Amy devised to pack for this four-day vacation. Then the boys give Jake, whose past experience with Christmas has been iffy and mostly related to Santa Claus, the lowdown on the innumerable Santiago family Christmas traditions.

The calm lasts until nearly 7:30, when Isabel Santiago emerges from the master bedroom, Victor looking a little sheepish at her heels. Jake had quickly learned at his first family event with the Santiagos that for all his commanding presence, Victor Santiago is constantly a little cowed and a little quiet when his wife is around. Isabel is _furious_ that anyone let her sleep this late when there are grandbabies to feed and snowball fights to be had and children to catch up with. Jake quickly vacates the kitchen, knowing full well that any cooking done in his presence will quickly devolve into spilled batter and (somehow inevitably) explosions.

Back in his room, he decides to brush his teeth and hair and make some pretense to his new family that he’s less messy than _this_. His toiletries are stored carefully in the bathroom, in a nice case Amy got him to replace the messy gallon-Ziploc that never quite dried that he previously relied on. Everything is perfectly packed, and he knows exactly where it is. But when he tries the door, it’s locked.

“Amy,” he calls softly, not wanting her brothers to hear them through the frustratingly thin walls ( _seriously_ , how did Amy do this for eighteen years?).

“Jake? What do you need?” Amy’s voice is terse, barely audible. The shower isn’t running, so Jake decides she must be using the bathroom. He tries the handle again, wondering if it was just stuck, but nope - still locked.

Amy’s voice comes through the door again. “Can it wait, babe?”

He sighs. “Yeah.”

Then two minutes pass. Then three. The toilet never flushes, and he can smell French toast being fried in the kitchen all the way from their tiny bedroom in the back.

“Babe? I just need my toothbrush.”

“Just two more minutes, Jake. _Please_.” Her voice is tense, stressed, and a little hoarse, and he’s not entirely sure why.

“This is taking _forever_ ,” he whines. Then, a pause. “Babe, are you,” he brings his voice down to a whisper, “pooping?”

There’s a cough, then few seconds of silence from inside the bathroom. Then, a relieved sigh. “Yes, Jake. I’m pooping.”

“Amy, I’ve seen you poop before. Let me in.”

“How on earth am I going to do that?”

“Right.”

And he waits patiently until - _finally_ \- he hears a toilet flush, and she lets him in. The bathroom smells a little musty, reminding him somehow of their bathroom the week they both had the stomach flu. Her face is a flushed, and her eyes are a bit wild, darting around the way that they do when she’s stressed or anxious. Before he has time to question it or make sure she’s okay, though, he hears Manny call from just inside the door to their room that breakfast is ready and everyone else is eating. Amy replies that they’re coming, so Jake pours some toothpaste in his mouth, swallows quickly, and follows his wife (he’ll never get tired of thinking that) out the door.

All of the Santiagos are gathered around every flat surface in the living area of the cabin, each with a steaming pile of French toast, bacon, and strawberries. All of the weirdness of this morning is forgotten as he plops on the couch next to Luis with his own plate, leaving a corner of the couch for Amy. The pair immediately start discussing the Knicks’ playoff prospects with a few Santiago nephews sitting on the floor nearby (Jake’s pretty sure their names are Robert and Matty, but he can’t be entirely sure. Everyone looks alike - those Santiago genes are _strong_.)

He’s so busy trying to convince his new family that the Knicks will win tomorrow by a full 70 points that he doesn’t notice that Amy spends most of the meal taking deep breaths and leaves her French toast, her favorite breakfast, almost entirely untouched.

As soon as the conversation lulls, the sound in the room transitioning from lively conversation to quiet groans of sated contentment, Amy jumps up to start collecting plates. Her mother quickly follows, as she always does. They wave off all help (although not much is offered - everyone is far too full to move) from brothers and spouses, and even from Jake, and mother and daughter bustle off to the kitchen together.

Moms and dads, startled by the sudden lack of a syrup-covered plate in their lap, jolt to alertness, rushing to scrub powdered sugar, syrup, and orange juice off the faces of their children before they can ruin the furniture in the rented cabin. In the midst of the sudden reinstatement of chaos, Joel’s wife Mari stares at Jake, catching and holding his eyes. Then, seemingly unintentionally, her gaze shifts from him to the still-open kitchen door, out of which the clinking sounds of dishware being washed are emerging over the tumult of voices in the living room.

He gets the message (he thinks - that was a pretty weird look) and gets up to help his wife in the kitchen. He’s happy to go help anyway - after all, he has nothing to do to help clean up the plethora of nieces and nephews surrounding him, and he likes to be useful.

He’s stopped dead in his tracks at the door to the kitchen, though. Isabel Santiago is giving him a terrifying glare that is - like Amy’s - eerily reminiscent of that of a middle school librarian. It stops him in his tracks, and somehow, he knows to stay there. But instead of abandoning the room, going back to play with Robert and Matty, the eight year-olds who informed him during breakfast that he’s the coolest uncle they know, he backs away and sneaks behind the door, watching through the crack between the hinges, so that Mrs. Santiago doesn’t know he’s there.

Amy is gesticulating wildly at her mother, clearly frantic. When her hands reach up to start twisting her hair, though, her mom grabs them gently, says something, and pulls her only daughter into a hug. He can’t make out what’s being said over the din of the room behind him, but the cadence sounds distinctly like Spanish, so he knows he wouldn’t be able to follow even if everyone else would just _shut up_.

He’s relieved, though, to see Amy’s shoulders relax into her mother’s arms. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but clearly her mother has it under control. The sight of Amy’s breath steadying, her hands relaxing, calms him - whatever it is clearly can’t be that bad.

And he’s right. He’d returned to his room to change out of pajama pants (although this is the perfect kind of day for a pajama-jammy-jam) when Amy walks in, hugging him from behind and pressing her face into his shoulder.

He lets her stay that way for a few seconds, before pulling her arms just loose enough that he can turn around in her grip and properly hug her back. They stay that way, uninterrupted and holding each other close, for far longer than they should be able to, what with every single child in the house barging into their room at all hours to get some one-on-one time with their favorite aunt.

Finally, she pulls back, placing a quick peck on his lips before opening the top drawer of the dresser to find jeans and a sweater (before Amy, Jake didn’t even _know_ you could unpack on vacation, so he takes a second to marvel at the fact that he doesn’t even have the opportunity to wreck the organization of their shared suitcase).

“So…you’re okay?” he asks, a little tentatively.

Her back stiffens when he asks, and she freezes, one pants leg on, the other leg in the air. Then, in just a second, she’s back to normal. In a carefully measured voice, she replies, “Yeah, babe, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I saw you talking to your mom, and you looked pretty upset.”

“Oh, that!” she replies, just a little too quickly. “I forgot the present for Mateo, and I didn’t know what to do, but my mom had an extra, so we’re giving him that!”

Jake’s pretty sure that he remembers writing Mateo’s gift tag himself, is almost certain it’s sitting near the side of the pile in their trunk, but he knows better than to argue. If Amy says it’s not there, then it’s definitely not there.

And then they hear Victor calling for them to come help decorate the Christmas tree that Diego drove up from New Jersey for the cabin, so instead of protesting, he grabs her as her head pops through the crew neck of her sweater (her softest one, which makes it by far his favorite) and plants a firm kiss on her lips. She laughs through it, wiggling away and protesting that _we can’t do this, Jake, my_ dad _might be coming in!_

But then, when they hear her father’s footsteps fade into the background, she turns around and surprises him with a quick kiss before walking off, expecting him to follow. He does, but only after spending a few seconds marveling that the woman walking off with a new bounce in her step and a swing in her shiny ponytail is married to _him_.

Jake emerges into the crowded living room only a few steps behind his wife to happily discover that most of the younger children have been sent outside to play and release some energy. This means that the living room, while still loud - thanks to the room full of Santiagos, whose grasp of volume control is iffy at best - is full of the hum of polite conversation, rather than the screams of children trying to play tag between the boxes of ornaments, provided by Isabel.

When everyone sees them enter, though, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt. All eyes are trained on Jake and Amy, standing a few feet apart at the front of the room. Isabel starts to get up, takes a deep breath to say something, and then Amy shakes her head. It’s almost imperceptible, and if her ponytail wasn’t quite so bouncy, Jake wouldn’t have seen it at all.

Immediately, conversation resumes, as though nothing had ever happened, leaving Jake to wonder if he was imagining everything. Still standing in front of everyone, he leans in and whispers the question to Amy, who just shrugs in response - as if to say _my family’s weird - deal with it._

So he does. He finds Luis sitting and untangling Christmas lights with Alex, their oldest brother. Alex looks up as Jake sits down, and a smile lights up his face as he claps Jake on the back.

“Congratulations, budd–” Alex is cut off abruptly from a sharp elbow from Luis that Jake _definitely_ did not imagine.

Both men are looking at him warily, looking a little nervous for reasons that Jake can’t even begin to parse. They’re silent for 10 seconds, and then 10 more, just _watching_ him expectantly.

Then finally, with a relieved sigh, Luis breaks the silence. “Anyway, Jake, wanna give this string a shot? We can’t get this knot out to save our lives.”

So Jake takes the lights they hold out for him and gets to work, doing his best to forget about the weird way that Alex had been staring at him.

Thankfully, untangling the lights turns out to be so consuming that he does manage to put his weird morning out of his mind for a little while. He has no idea how lights could have gotten this bad, until Alex explains that his kids used them as a rope for a hostage situation game that summer and put them away themselves. He’s a little impressed, honestly - figuring out how to untangle these lights might be a harder puzzle than any he’s managed to solve with the NYPD.

Finally, though, he is able to hand Victor, who is taking meticulous instructions from Isabel about where the lights should be strung, a perfectly untangled strand of Christmas lights to add to the tree. The children are called back in to add ornaments to the now-lit tree (which stands taller than the trees Jake’s managed to squeeze into any of his apartments). The stomping of boots on the front mat sounds like a herd of elephants entering the house, and it lasts for what feels like an eternity as more and more kids traipse through, tracking an unbelievable amount of snow through the living room on their way to put up their coats.

His job done, Jake moves to the couch and squeezes into the impossibly small space left between Amy and the arm of the couch. Amy, laughing at the noises he makes as he tries to force his butt into the few available inches, gets up, settling on his lap as soon as he sits down.

Her head comes to rest against his shoulder as the kids reemerge, loud and ready to decorate. They watch the tree slowly acquire character via the addition of all sorts of ornaments - from fancy gold family heirlooms that only nineteen year-old Anna and her brother Sam can touch, hung high at the top of the tree, to paper drawings strung with yarn that two year-old Eliza drapes proudly on the bottom branches, balancing tentatively on chubby legs.

Amy slowly snuggles closer as they watch the scene unfold, so that her legs are folded on the couch (she may or may not give Luis, sitting next to them and playing with Lucia, a small kick as she pulls them up, just in case he’s done something today to deserve it), and Jake wraps his arms around her. Two of the thirteen year-olds are making faces at them and pretending to vomit in the corner, but Amy just laughs and plants a kiss on Jake’s cheek to bother her nephews.

Jake notices, when the tree is about halfway done and a few of the brothers are getting up to help their kids even out the ornament distribution (Jake has long-since discovered that Amy comes by her OCD honestly), that Isabel Santiago is watching him closely. She seems to have fixated on his arms, draped lazily over his wife’s (her daughter’s) abdomen. He can’t read her expression, despite all his years of detective work, but he sits up straighter, trying to match the professionalism of Joel and his wife, sitting in the opposite corner of the room and gently holding hands in separate chairs.

As he shifts, though, Amy groans her objection, nuzzling her face deeper into his chest. That’s when he realizes his wife is half-asleep. So instead, he settles back, deciding Mrs. Santiago must have been looking at something else - a quick glance confirms that she’s now talking to Diego’s wife animatedly about Christmas Eve dinner plans.

Finally, the tree is done. Isabel brings out sandwiches for everyone (Jake has no idea when she had time to make them. He’s at least 80% sure his mother-in-law is magical.), and lunch is finished in 10 minutes flat.

By this time, it’s mid-afternoon, and there’s just a few hours until Christmas Eve dinner preparation begins in earnest. Matty and Robert beg their fathers for a snowball fight, and they agree eagerly, and before Jake really realizes what happened, everyone is getting up to go find coats and enjoy the hour or two of true daylight remaining.

Jake wakes Amy up (she claims drowsily that she’s been awake the whole time, thank you very much), and as they get up, Manny and Luis wander over to ask if Jake and Amy will be joining. Jake accepts enthusiastically, but Amy shakes her head.

“I don’t think a snowball fight is up my alley today,” Amy apologizes with a yawn.

“Right! Because of the–” Manny starts, and then shuts his mouth so hard his teeth clack.

Amy gives him her special death glare, usually reserved for Charles when he starts talking in meticulous detail about her reproductive system.

Luis just laughs and drags Manny away, but Jake doesn’t miss the excited hug Manny and Luis exchange when they think they’re out of sight. Things are starting to get undeniably weird, Jake decides, furrowing his brow.

Amy is leading Jake back to their room when they find Isabel herself standing in their path. “Amy, could I borrow Jake for a moment? I need help with something, and your brothers are _useless_.”

Amy tries to glare at her mother, telling her silently to back off. But Isabel glares right back, and all of a sudden, Jake feels like he’s watching Amy look into a trick mirror at a fair - every mannerism is identical.

To no one’s surprise, Isabel wins, and Amy drops Jake’s hand, throwing one last concerned look over her shoulder as she continues to their room. Amy may have her mother’s glare, but her mother has an extra 37 years of practice.

Isabel starts to walk towards the kitchen, perhaps the only empty room in the house, and Jake follows automatically.

When they get there, she closes the door and turns slowly towards Jake. Slowly, carefully, she says, “You know, Amy loves you. A lot.”

Jake, feeling almost as nervous as when he asked them for their blessing to marry Amy, replies with the first dumb quip that comes to mind: “I’d hope so - we’ve been married for six months  now!”

Isabel chuckles a little at that, seeming to loosen up. “I know. And we’re all happy to have you as a part of the family,” she reaches up touch his shoulder, her expression turning back to something more serious. “I know Amy likes to take care of herself. She’s been like that her whole life - she didn’t even want our help as a toddler learning to _walk_ , which didn’t go down well. There was the whole puddle incident,” Isabel gets a far off look in her eyes for a few seconds before focussing back in on Jake, who has a host of questions about the phrase _puddle incident_. “I know she likes to take care of herself, but you’re taking care of her too, right? We all need a little taking care of sometimes.”

“Of course! We take care of each other - when she lets me,” Jake shrugs, like it’s obvious.

“Thank you,” Isabel smiles a warm smile. “I knew I could trust you, Jake. I’m just reminded how lucky I am at times like these, that all my babies grew up and made such perfect families themselves. All these grandbabies!” Isabel gestures around as if there are grandbabies escaping from every crevice of the house (in fairness, they definitely are).

“They’re all pretty special,” Jake agrees, remembering the chorus of Tio Jake. No two words any adult (except for Amy) could say would make his heart feel so full.

“All so unique, and so precious.” Isabel adds. And I just wanted to tell you how thrilled we all are that you all could be here with us this Christmas - I know it was hard to get off work, but it’s good for Amy to be with family, especially this year.”

Jake has already started to spew words about how of course they were thrilled to be here and it was never a question that they’d find a way to make it and they love seeing everyone. And then her last words register, and he pauses, his mind swirling as he looks for any explanation for what she might mean.

“What do you mean this year? Is-” he lowers his voice “is someone sick? Does Amy know?”

“No one’s sick,” she chuckles softly, “but Amy has been feeling a little under the weather. There’s a special tea I have, it used to help me when…I mean, it helps with the nausea. I’ll get you some to take up to her.” Isabel starts for the cupboards, rifling around in the ones above her head. Jake isn’t sure she can even see in there.

“Do you need any help?” He offers, but just then Isabel produces a lilac box and nods approvingly at it.

The tea takes five minutes to make, but Jake’s distracted for most of it by Matty, who comes in with a hacky sack, which Jake can’t say no to. The kid is surprisingly good, and Jake’s out-of-practice, leading to more than one miss and several repetitions of the phrase, “Aw! I boofed it!”

Isabel finally hands Jake a steaming cup of tea, which he carefully starts to carry back to Amy.

“Make sure she’s getting enough sleep, too!” Isabel says as Jake starts turn away.

“Uh…I will, I guess?”  

She laughs at his confusion, ruffles his hair (she has to reach up on her tip toes to do it), and hands him a cookie (Jake has no idea where she got it, but Isabel always has cookies. Jake loves her dearly for it).

With that, Jake knows he’s been dismissed. He walks out of the kitchen much faster than he should with the tea, carrying the cookie in his mouth.

When he finally navigates his way towards the glorified closet that he and Amy are sharing this Christmas, he throws open the door dramatically, startling Amy, who’s sitting on the bed wrapping a plain white box in red-and-green patterned wrapping paper (Jake remembers her packing the extra wrapping paper over his strenuous objections about the fact that there are no more gifts to wrap and there’s no possible _way_ that she’s forgotten a gift for _anyone_ \- she even had one for Alex’s new puppy.)

“Babe,” Jake says frantically, his mouth still full of cookie, “I think your family is trying to kill us!”

“What?” Jake rarely catches Amy off guard anymore - she knows him almost as well as she knows herself. But he can see clearly that he’s surprised her with this.

“D’you think your brothers are still mad at you for that time you busted their party?” Jake is busy running through a list of every possible reason they could be on a Santiago hit list, but he’s discovering the list is pretty short.

“No way - I was nine!”

“Maybe it’s just me! Maybe they know 145 isn’t a good credit score! Ames, what if they discovered I don’t have a favorite font?”

At that, Amy gets up off the bed and walks over to him. “Babe, they _already_ know that. And you do have a favorite font - it’s the title font from the _Die Hard_ poster, remember? Everything’s totally normal - nothing bad’s gonna happen.”

The statement was clearly supposed to make him relax, and she turns around to find his coat for him so that he can go outside and join in the snowball fight, but Jake isn’t satisfied. Then he notices that the peals of laughter he’s hearing are coming from outside, rather than inside, the house, and he realizes that they must be totally alone inside. The knowledge that they’re alone in a snowed-in cabin adds an extra sense of eeriness to the afternoon light filtering through the clouds.

“Babe, we’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of nowhere. Suuure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

Abandoning the search for his coat, Amy grabs him by one hand and drags him back to sit down on the bed with her. “First of all, the cabin isn’t abandoned - everyone is, like, ten feet outside the front door. Second, we’re on _family vacation_ \- you’ve been watching way too much true crime if you think someone’s trying to kill us. So what’s bugging you?”

Jake pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath, and then lets everything out in a rush. “Your mom just pulled me aside to make sure I knew to _take care_ of you because you love me and everyone keeps _staring_ at me and Manny congratulated me and I don’t know why and you were even being weird about _pooping_ this morning and they’re definitely up to something really freaky, babe!”

And then he’s cut off by Amy’s laughter. She’s fallen backwards on the bed and is clutching her stomach as deep belly laughs escape into the still air of the cabin. Jake just glares at her - he can’t _believe_ she’d be laughing about something this serious! They’re in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the woods (she can’t convince him otherwise) and their _lives_ are on the line!

Finally, slowly, Amy catches her breath. When she’s gotten herself under control enough to speak again, she says the last thing he’d ever expect: “Want an early Christmas present?”

In shock, Jake replies, “Babe! Now is not the time for early Christmas presents! Now’s the time to dig out the car!”

“Jake.” She gives him The Look, the one that means that he’s being ridiculous and he needs to stop and listen. “Open the gift.” And she hands him the mostly-wrapped box that has been sitting forgotten on their pillow.

Still uttering half-hearted protests, he tears at the wrapping paper to expose the plain white box inside (what can he say? He’s a sucker for gifts). It looks vaguely like a box a tie might come in, and he looks up at her. “Santiago, clothes aren’t gonna fix the fact that something creepy is _definitely_ coming.”

“Keep opening, Peralta.”

So he does. When he takes off the top, he looks up at her. She waits patiently for him to look down, to actually register what’s inside the box. When he finally does, his jaw drops as some still-unidentified emotion bubbles up in his stomach.

Because lying inside the box is a positive pregnancy test.

“I took it this morning, when you were with Manny and Luis and I’d woken up to throw up again and Mari bought it for me yesterday when they went into town and I was gonna give it to you first thing tomorrow morning but you’re in the middle of a weird…Jake?”

The sound of his name jerks him out of his reverie. Slowly, he looks up at his wife, a grin painted across his face from ear to ear (he’s pretty sure no one could wipe off this grin - not even the still-possibly-murderous Santiagos playing outside). Then, he’s tackling her back into the pillows at the head of the bed, being careful of her abdomen while their laughter mingles and fills the still-silent cabin.

Their legs are tangled and his arms are wrapped around her and her hands are combing through his hair and he’s never felt this disgustingly, blatantly happy in his life. “Santiago…You’re really pregnant?” he asks, awe saturating every word.

She nods in response, a smile growing quickly on her face. “You’re really happy about it?” she asks.

In response, he shifts forward and kisses her firmly. It’s far from their most graceful kiss - their teeth keep clacking because neither of them can stop smiling long enough to kiss the other properly. Jake doesn’t mind, though, because he’s too distracted by the pure, unadulterated joy that’s radiating up from his chest and out through his face and out through his fingers and the very tips of his toes.

Finally he pulls back. “Yeah,” he answers with a laugh. “I guess I’m _pretty_ happy about it.”

She hits his shoulder lightly, rolling her eyes at her dumb husband that she loves _so much_. And he’s too busy thinking about the fact that _Amy’s pregnant_ and all of the possibilities that that fact brings to even pretend it hurt. Instead, he shifts one hand slightly, gently, so that it comes to rest just over her belly button.

“You know, you can’t feel him kick yet.”

“I know! And him? It’s _obviously_ a girl that we’re _obviously_ naming Nakatomi!”

“Jake, Santiagos have boys. Always. Trust me, this kid is a boy.” She sounds so sure, but he can’t stop himself from giggling (he might never be able to stop giggling because he doesn’t think happiness this strong will ever wear off. It’s pulsing steadily next to his heart, filling him with the same warmth he felt when he saw Amy do the Double Tuck in her white dress as she walked down the aisle).

“Ames, they had you.”

She’s opening her mouth to retort, but the mention of the Santiagos reminds Jake how this whole conversation started in the first place. “Babe, this is all very exciting and everything, but it has _nothing_ to do with why your family was acting so weird. Either you need to explain or we need to get the hell out of this creepy cabin. Something definitely just creaked and we’re the only ones inside!”

“Jake…that was you. You just moved and the bed creaked. And, to answer your other question, my family…might have known.” She sounds a little sheepish, but mostly she just sounds blissfully happy.

Jake looks at her in obviously fake indignation. “Amy! You told your family before you told me?”

“In fairness to me, my mom actually is the one who told me!”

Jake looks at her a little incredulously. “Babe. Come on. You keep track of everything to the _hour_. There’s no way you didn’t know about this.”

“I’m serious! I was a little late and pretty tired and nauseous, but didn’t think anything of it. My mom took one look at me and pulled me aside and told me. She’s had so many kids she just _knows_ , Jake. Joel and Alex and my dad figured it out on their own, too - they’ve seen my mom have so many kids it takes them, like, half a second to pick out a pregnant woman. Between the four of them, things…got around pretty quickly. They’re all pretty horrible at keeping secrets.”

“No kidding.” Jake thinks back to the millions of weird looks that he’d forced himself to disregard and the dozen weird conversations he’d had since yesterday morning.

“They just get really excited about new grandkids, and they couldn’t wait for you to be excited, too.” Her voice is soft, as is her smile, and her hand has drifted towards his cheek.

“Trust me. I am.” He leans in to kiss her, a proper one this time. And it’s amazing and fireworks are exploding behind his eyelids and he hasn’t been this truly happy in…maybe ever and she’s rolling him over to straddle him and her hands are finding the buttons on his shirt, but then, a small voice is shouting outside their (thankfully closed) door to come outside. With a startled laugh, they break apart, jumping up impressively quickly to seated positions on opposite sides of the bed. Amy shouts back at her niece that they’ll be out in just a sec, and she begins searching for the coats and boots that they’d thrown off so hastily last night while Jake frantically buttons his shirt.

“There’s really no way we can get out of going outside?” Jake asks, a little disappointed.

“Remember when you were so excited for the snowball fight?” Amy retorts, a huge grin cracking across her face.

“Yeah, but now there are better things to do!”

And with that, Amy hands her husband his coat and boots, grabs his hand, and drags him to the front door. They emerge with his arm over her shoulder and her arm around his waist (she’ll say she just needs to be kept warm, but really she just can’t stay away from him). They watch on the side for a while, and at first, everyone leaves them alone (or at least, no one throws snowballs at them).

Jake’s so busy looking down at his wife, who’s positively radiant, that he doesn’t notice the sappy grins being thrown their way by every single adult in the clearing.

They stay that way, blissfully unaware of the screaming children and the happy smiles from Mr. and Mrs. Santiago and the high fives Manny and Luis are throwing each other because their baby sister is having a _baby_ , for quite a while.

And then Joel ruins it. “Ay! Peralta! Stop making eyes at your wife and get in here!” And then a large snowball hits Jake’s face.

Jake roars with laughter as he bends down to start making his own ammo, but he’s slow - certainly unused to the speed at which Santiagos can form snowballs. He’s getting pelted from all sides, and the kids have joined in, and one dumped a pile of snow down his back while he bent down to make another snowball and he’s going down.

And then Amy throws a snowball. It hits Joel square in the face, and he backs up, sputtering. Manny starts to charge, but he’s gotten a heaping pile of snow to the face before he can get anywhere near her (she’d shifted while everyone was distracted, placing herself strategically behind her parents and using them as a human shield that none of her brothers could touch). One by one, the Santiago brothers and their spouses go down, their children getting distracted by the prospect of tackling their own parents into the snow. Jake’s more than a little impressed with her accuracy - now he knows why her aim with a gun is so good.

And then he’s able to stand up, brushing the snow off his jacket and shaking it out of his hair but mostly looking at Amy, who’s all sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks as she gives her dad a high five. And then Victor Santiago is pulling his daughter into the tightest hug Jake’s ever seen and if he’s not mistaken a tear is leaking out of his eye (no - he must be mistaken - that’s _definitely_ just melting snow) and Amy’s laughing a little and he can see her lips moving, reminding them that it’s still early and they’re not even supposed to know, but none of it seems to resonate because then her mom’s joined in the hug and Luis has found Jake watching all of this unfold.

“Congrats, man.” He pulls Jake into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before he releases him.

“Thanks,” Jake says, and he’s surprised to hear his voice crack a little bit on the word.

“Yes! I finally got to say it!” Luis shouts so loudly that Jake falls back down into the snow, startled.

* * *

Later that night, after the Christmas Eve dinner that was so amazing Jake may never need to eat again and the midnight Mass that they all had to traipse through the snowy woods to get to, Jake and Amy finally get to lie down, limbs tangled as she rests her head against his chest. She’s in her flannel pajama pants and his academy sweatshirt, and he’s wearing her family’s reunion t-shirt, and he’s maybe never been more in love.

His wife is already three-quarters asleep - it’s almost midnight, and pregnancy has made her constantly, painfully exhausted. But through the thin walls, the sounds of her siblings putting out presents from Santa drift in, and he can’t help but smile. He’s pretty sure it’s Luis who stubs his toe and lets out a string of Spanish curses, and he’s guessing it’s Alex who shuts him up so abruptly. He laughs a little bit, quietly, and Amy shifts against him.

“Next year, that’ll be us, babe.”

She grins up at him, her eyes heavy lidded and her hair already a little mussed in its ponytail. “Can’t wait.”


End file.
